Father and Son
by FoilyPaper
Summary: Small scribbles I'll write to test my writing skills. I'll continue to write this, it'll be small scenes of the game I'll novelize.
1. Father and Son

"He doesn't know anything."

The threadbare mattress squeaked under the effect of dry blood as Atreus re-adjusted his sedentary position, his legs left dangling about just a short distance above the obsidian stone. The random scraps of wood and stone above flames were just enough to keep their wooden shack heated, the mild torridness blazing into his face.

"Why did I expect it to be any different now that she's..."

Slowly swaying his head towards the twin beds just near his, an audible sigh gave out under his frown as he stared at the pillow closer to the wall barely keeping together. He could see her mother sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Bordering near her was his father, his eyes set on the ceiling and his arms rested under his head. They looked peaceful, almost like a functional family. His father could be quite jarring at times, but he still awaited the night where he could watch the two of them sleep together, their breaths sometimes synced.

But the somber reality was quick to take over. The figure of her mother slowly dissolved into thin air, only leaving a vacant bed in her place never to be filled again. Except for her ashes maybe. The smoking vapor seeped through the door left ajar, acting only as an irritant stench for Atreus. He didn't like the notion of smelling that for the rest of the day, but they were the remains of her mother, and he very much doubted that his father would take him out for hunting anytime soon.

That was another matter that needed a few minds pondering questions about it. The forest. All the Draugr they faced just to hunt down a single deer was in baffling numbers. Deer weren't that far away from their house, and even if they were, Draugr would be much farther away from them. He noticed the change right after his father cut down the last tree they needed in order to honor his mother. The trees somehow felt different, more sinister and mysterious. They no longer had the sparkling joy that upheaved even the most angry soul in a good mood. He felt nothing as his father fiercely drove his axe through them, only seeing them as honoring equipment for her mother instead of living beings. He no longer breathed with them.

"You lost control."

The abrupt voice of Kratos, his father, snapped him out of his stupor. His looming figure stood before him, his eyes locked into his with intent. In his hand was a pouch, the contents inside easily guessed by the stench they gave off. Ashes. They must've burned while they were out hunting. He turned back towards his father, striking the words he spoke through his mind again to formulate an answer. He was talking about the troll they fought earlier, about how he wasn't ready and all that. He thought they could put that behind them, but his father apparently disagreed.

"That thing was trying to kill us. It's not like you don't get angry in a fight."

He reflected back on the words of his father. _"Everything is different, boy."_ Everything felt different, but he lost count of how many times his father came home with scars all over his body, collapsing near the fire and claimed that he chased after wolves. He believed him for a bit, but the amount of times he came home with an almost severed limb... Wolves couldn't do that to him even if they tried to. It had to be trolls, even if his father outright denied it when he asked him.

"Anger can be a weapon."

Atreus chuckled at his words. Then why did he get angry at him when he made sure the troll stayed dead?

"If you control it. Use it. You clearly cannot."

Talk about hypocrisy, he thought. His father came home fuming with hate and anger after his often visits out into the woods, often covered with blood and guts. He was in no place to lecture him about that. He was probably just worried about him being sick again, but the sickness hadn't returned in a long, long time. What were the chances he'd get sick now?

"When you lose-"

"I haven't been sick in a long time. I'm better now."

During the times where the sickness was still dominant over him, he was unable to walk, often went unconscious out of nowhere, and had intense fevers rise up after boiling up even a lick of anger. No one in the family knew why the sickness was correlated with his emotions, but it happened. It was just a matter of convincing his father that he was able to fend for himself, and didn't need babysitting or training anymore.

"Fine."

Kratos took a few steps forward, knelt down in the same level as his son, and raised both of his hands to face him. His anger might not be that prominent, but his stubborn nature definitely was.

"Come on then."

This was the best way to demonstrate how easily his anger showed itself. He wasn't going to win the argument with just words.

"You want me to hit you?"

"I want you to try."

This should've been the hint that made Atreus realize his father was luring him into a trap, but he hesitated only for a moment before straightening his composure and thrust a fist towards his father, only for his fist to get painfully blipped away by Kratos' hand.

"Ow! What are you-"

"Try again."


	2. Threat

"Why are you doing that?"

"Too slow. Try again."

"Cut it out!"

"Weak. Again."

"Again!"

"STOP IT!"

One miscalculated punch, and Atreus' footing was violently taken from him, sending the kid tumbling onto the ground. Timber splintered and crackled under his weight as the boy wheezed out blood, collecting it all on his left palm. What had he done? He had lost control again, and proven his father right once more. It was a trap, how did he not realize it sooner?! Tears began to form on his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks at any moment. Mother, she's gone, he thought. He was alone with him. No friends, no sibling, just a father that didn't spend an ounce of effort towards learning more about his son.

Kratos wasted little time before snatching Atreus by his arm, forcing him on his feet and noticing the massive frown that had shaped itself on his face.

"Your anger. You can get lost in it. The path ahead is difficult!"

Whatever, Atreus thought as he tried to step away, but was quickly yanked back by the firm grip of his father. He was getting tired of his lessons, and treating himself like a stranger. He was really ready! There wasn't anything left to learn now. He knew how to read scriptures his father probably didn't, he was confident with the bow that his mother made for him, and he always had his journal he used to jot down any valuable information about the hostiles they fought.

He was ready to carry her mother's ashes up to highest peak in all the realms. That was her wish, and he was more than eager to fulfill it as soon as fate allowed it, but father was getting in the way.

"And you Atreus, are clearly not ready."

The resonating noise interrupted the conversation like a tidal wave washing over an island, putting worried expressions on both identities currently situated inside. The cabin wasn't just shaking, it was quaking unrestrained. Floorboards came off their screws, pots shook and dared to lose their balance, and the ceiling was on the tipping point of collapse. Any heat left between the two was left on a back burner as they turned to focus on the unwelcomed change in scenery, Kratos' grip on his son now with a more protective intent.

"What was that?!"

"Quiet."

Grits of dirt settled on the roof of their house slipped between the cracks as they produced the opening, any nearby light source quickly left to malfunction in the undeserving attention of nobody. Atreus thought it to be a giant monster stopping by their house, but Kratos had other, more frightening ideas left wandering in his mind. Before they could ponder the sudden mystery, their flimsy protection from the outside world, their wooden door, sounded off resembling that of the hasty knocks of a trespasser that just got robbed by dwarves.

"Come on out!"

The plywood creaked under their feet as they made over to the voice demanding permission into the wooden cabin, their reasons and motivation for coming here a total enigma.

"It's no use hiding anymore. I know who you are."

The timeworn spartan tried to get a look at the stranger right outside their front door, peeking between the cracks formed by the harsh winters that breezed through Midgard most of the season. Nothing was visible except for snow coated above the ground, making the presence of this stranger even more cryptic than ever before. Kratos knew better than to blindly open the door. Politely letting in a potential drunk mortal and having his son watch his brutal death wasn't one of the lines Kratos wanted to cross today.

"More importantly, I know what you are!"

"What's going on? Do you know him?"

There were two possibilities Kratos could take. Either confront this man with his son and potentially risk an ugly situation unfolding before the eyes of Atreus, or hide Atreus under the root cellar and keep him safe, but also risk him finding out about his past. The box was hidden well, but you never did now when it came to Atreus.

"Boy. Beneath the floor, now!"

"But you told me to never go down there. Who is that?"

"I do not know."

The timber let out a swift yaw as it snapped open, revealing a small hole for Atreus to crawl into.

"What's he talking about?"

"I do not know. Get in."


End file.
